


Alone

by RaineWolf



Series: A wedge thrown in disguise [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Needs a Hug, Akechi Goro's Childhood, Angst, Gen, Mentioned Shido Masayoshi - Freeform, Orphaned Akechi Goro, Pre-Canon, Pre-Canon Death, Suicide, Young Akechi Goro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 17:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30025608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaineWolf/pseuds/RaineWolf
Summary: At 9 years old, he was alone. Truly alone. Coming upon his mother not waking up and getting taken away by the white truck shook him to his core. An orange capsule bottle rolled out from under the messy futon as she was moved and he knew what she had done. It was most likely stolen from her night job and also empty.OrGoro Akechi goes into a care home, an orphanage.
Series: A wedge thrown in disguise [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2208783
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!!! This is my first post on this site and one of my first finished writings ever in a long time. I recently got into Persona 5 last year and its entire fandom and I'm absolutely in love. I mainly watch playthroughs as I don't have gaming systems and I do love watching things with good stories. I still haven't watched Strikers yet, though, so I will get to that soon. 
> 
> Anyways, about this story and the series it will be apart of and be created soon, I always wondered about Goro Akechi's childhood and how all of that happened. I was also inspired by the social commentary analysis video done by Youtuber LadyVirgilia on Akechi and the extra information on throwaway children in Japan. I wanted to elaborated more on his childhood experience. 
> 
> For the series, I have also wondered what if, someone was there with him as a child and became his friend in some way. Just one person could make a difference. This character won't be one from the game, but will be an OC of mine that has being on my mind for a while now. This OC will come in later works. This series will eventually fall into canon divergence as some things will start to vary from canon. 
> 
> I don't intend on doing multi chapter works, but will be doing one-shot like works which will all fall under this series. Every time I try to write something, I want to do multi chapter works and I realize that is just too much and I just give up and not finished anything. I find that doing a one-shot like format would be better and the order of things i post will not be in chronological order. 
> 
> Before this gets too much, please enjoy!!!

At 9 years old, he was alone. Truly alone. Coming upon his mother not waking up and getting taken away by the white truck shook him to his core. An orange capsule bottle rolled out from under the messy futon as she was moved and he knew what she had done. It was most likely stolen from her night job and also empty. 

She killed herself.

There he stood now in a small office room surrounded by people who couldn't possibly care about his situation. He could hear the same words that people always called him by. 

A whore's child. 

Troubled. 

Criminal.

Outsider.

And now,

An orphan.

A throw away child. 

_Shut up already and please leave me alone._

"Akechi? Goro Akechi?"

"Huh?" He was broken out of his turmoil by the sudden voice. 

"Where are you listening to me?" The man sitting at the table was looking at him, really just looking beyond himself. . 

"So-rr-ry, I was-n't listening, sir." He has always hated just how small his voice sounds. And that crack in his voices made him want to panic more. 

The man made a long sigh and rubbed his forehead. And Goro's shoulders stiffened and he squeaked out of his fear. 

"You will get 10 minutes back at that shelter to get your things and you will be taken in by the care home across the city." 

He stared still just wide eyed and stiff as a board. He squeaked a second time when an unknown hand pats him in the back. He spun around and saw another person who was too close in his personal space. He wanted to be give more space and-

"Understood?" The tonality of that word interrupted his panic again, being solely filled with wariness and exasperation. The man at the table stared solely into his eyes and all he felt coming from that expression was contempt and disgust. 

He quickly turned back and stutter out "Yesss-sir!" as his heart and stomach felt like they are going to mend into one. 

"Miss Awano will be taking you now."

He turned around again and realized the person that was too close to him was a lady. 

"Akechi, it's time to go now." A light frilly voice comes from her. 

He glanced towards her in hesitant regard. And he watched as she reached an arm out to him. 

The angle of the arm in his eyesight froze him in place as he was reminded of his mother handing him a wad of yen and shooing him off to a local bathhouse. 

The memory faded as he suddenly felt his right arm being pulled towards the door. 

"Hurry up, will you?"

"Sorry, I'm coming." 

* * *

"You have 10 minutes inside. Understood?"

Goro only nodded and went inside. 

Arriving at the shelter condominium, he quickly rushed through as there were only two rooms in their apartment. The first room was always lacking in anything really except for basic kitchen appliances and odds and ends discovered freely. 

The only other room was littered with items, some with organization and some with none. He hopped through the clutter and found the dresser with his belongings at the bottom drawer and pulled out a few articles of his old clothing and stuffed them into a plastic garbage bag. 

He pulled out a final t-shirt and it got caught in between the slide mechanism of the drawer. He reached with his left hand to free his shirt before he suddenly remembered something. Something very important. 

This drawer always caught stuff along it because it was always pulled out completely. It was also a one of the few drawers he himself could easily get to. There was something taped to the other side of the drawer. It was that file folder of papers and a small stack of yen. 

He had a backpack that he used whenever he had to go out and placed his important things in there. The file folder and the money was immediately first inside. Going over to the small sitting table, his one sole and only toy was there, a little ray gun, white and lined with gold trim, a super chunky stock and handle but a thin barrel. 

He looked forlornly at his prized toy and grabbed a decently cleaned appearing towel. He wrapped the said towel around this possession and placed it into his backpack. 

The white of the towel made him think about the futon bed that was just there the night before sitting in the middle of the room. Which had his mother in it, silent, still and cold as a statue. 

He sucked in a breath as his body started to tremble. Water pricked to the edges of his eyes and he bored a grimace as he forced himself to grab more things. He stalked his way into the small bathroom and grabbed several bottles of basic hygiene supplies and threw them into his backpack. 

The memories of his mother went through his mind. The times she was present and happy she would always play with him. 

_"Help! Help! I need rescue! Is there anyone that can save me?" His mother would call out._

_"I'm an ally of justice. I will save you!" He would respond back with, while shooting would-be and imaginary villains with his toy gun._

_Then his mother would pop up from her hiding place, which was usually under a blanket. "Oh great hero, you have saved me. What can I ever do to repay you?_

He mindlessly pulled his backpack closer and zipped it closed and put it on. And went to reach for the garbage bag full of his clothing and started for the door. 

He stopped in the first room as he realized the trembling was still there. He took a final look into the room he had spent most of his life in with the exception of the few stays at the special rehab center closer to the mountains. 

Leadened legs made him unable to move and he felt himself take in another breath, before completely collapsing, folding in on himself. Fresh hot tears came down his cheeks, each one dripping onto the cold tile ground of the room. Sobbing into his hands, he knew he needed to muffle himself as he absolutely didn't want anyone to see him like this. 

He shivered as so many thoughts came through his mental mind. His entire situation only brought negative thoughts. He couldn't let it plague him. He needed to straighten himself out again. 

He stood back up and started rubbing away at his tears. A few knocks on the door alerted him to the presence of other people and he at least had the satisfaction of knowing that no one saw him or heard him crying. 

"Akechi, are you done now? It's been over 10 minutes." That same frilly voice rang through the door. 

"Yes, I am." He cleared himself up. 

"I gave you extra time in there, my boy so you have more than enough time." 

Goro's expressions pinched towards her for a second. And he watched as a condescending and fake smile was plastered to her face. As anyone else showed him. 

_I don't owe you anything!_

The lady Goro had forgotten her name already, grabbed his bag of clothing and headed towards the vehicle. 

He climbed inside and sat down on one of the seats. He pulled his backpack in front of him and clicked on the seatbelt. 

He looked behind him, watching his old home. Once the vehicle began to rattle to life and move, he kept staring while hugging his backpack. 

He was an orphan now with an unknown future ahead of him. Foreign looking Japanese were also looked upon differently. He knew that. His mother was the same. There were just too many unknowns to think about and he wondered what could possibly save him just like the heroes in his dreams. Considering where he was, he was stuck thinking more and more concerning and depressing thoughts. For him to be left like this, a reason must exist, but hope in knowing was nonexistent. Nada. 

He thought about the little toy gun in his bag. 

_What is justice when there isn't any hope?_

* * *

Finally settled in his care home, a routine was a slight godsend to have. It kept his mind off from thinking other thoughts. Kids had outnumbered staff to 6 to 1 and he hadn't minded being left alone for hours on end. He was already accustomed to that. His backpack with his important possessions was always hidden under the blankets on his assigned bed. He wasn’t going to lose any more of his possessions. 

He at least had three regular meals, breakfast, lunch, and dinner at specific times. There was outdoor time too where we could play outside if we wanted to. School was one thing that was harder to attend. Educational packets were delivered to the facility weekly. 

Weeks came and went as he settled into his new home, still more likely temporary as it was always the fate of placement kids to be shipped around. 

He sat on his bed, after dinner and decided to look at the important file folder. 

The folder was taped up completely on all sides. Completely sealed and no exposure to the air. 

_How weird._

He picked at the tape, and started to open the folder. He notices smaller sheets inside in between the larger A4 sheets. He shook the folder making the smaller sheets fall out. 

A mixture of various sized papers came out. There were little tickets stubs for trains to locations he didn’t recognize. Slight larger sheets with a gloss sheen were among them too. They looked like receipts. Receipts from markets and high end restaurants. 

_Wait?_

_How?_

The total bill on the bottom of those receipts was an astronomical amount from him to fathom. 

His mother must have been with someone who could afford this. He noted the date on the receipts and the ticket stubs, all were noted many years ago, when he was only still a mere baby. 

A few more slips of paper fell out from the folder and they fluttered to the ground and the bed. He hastily picked them up. They were newspaper clippings and noticed a name. 

Masayoshi Shido.

That was the name his mother had repeated multiple times. It was also highlighted and circled on the newspaper clippings. 

He was a man in government, someone he remembered his mother saying to avoid at all cost. 

He remembered seeing him twice. Both times as a toddler. Both times remembered an odd queasy feeling of fear coming over him. He had a thin cut for his head, a buzz cut. He never seemed to acknowledge that he was there. He just remembered what was a sense of impending doom. It wasn't repulsion or stranger danger, but just sheer doom and death. As if a single man could bring ruin to everything. _Right_? 

Oh how he won’t ever know just how right he was. 

He never saw him again after that. 

It was odd though, he had thought, that among all of the men his mother spent her nights with, that was the name that came up infrequently but more so than any other. He remembers the few nights where she would murmur that name in sleep or drunken stupor. 

It had to be important. Right? This needed to be remembered. No matter what.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to know what you think of this. This is my first post ever here, so please no flames and if there's any constructive criticism and/or grammar edits I need to do please tell me. 
> 
> As a writer, I'm not too sure how great I am in storytelling. The idea to show, not tell, is something I am trying to work on, so let me know how I did on this. This was one of the few works, that I actually had a continuous train of thought while writing this and finished this one rather quickly. I have four others I have started and I don't have much of a timeline when I will get things done. 
> 
> Oh and also are there more tags I should add? 
> 
> Thank you!!!


End file.
